


Queen Of My Own

by Lohare



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lohare/pseuds/Lohare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those who have ever ventured near have felt the cold tingle of fear upon their spine, and a sense of dread looming as they near the large iron door, adorned with intricate and detailed carvings... for this is the domain of the Iron Dragon and his Queen. A short story based on some awe-inspiring art by Poki-Art on DeviantART.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A queen of my own

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Queen of my own -GaLe-](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/167761) by Poki-Art. 



A calm breath upon the deathly silent midnight air, the thinnest of breezes upon the horizon, a painted and colored darkness. Even the brightest of homely and loving lights seemed distant and faded here, an sanctuary of darkness, an abyss of deadly solace.

A castle, set high among the shadowed peaks of a gargantuan cliff face, towering over the village of wood and stone far below, an abyssal guardian to those who would look up upon the seemingly ancient symbol of power. A symbol of status. Windows long shattered by war, crumbling and darkened stone walls, encasing the structure as if the gods themselves would strike at any being unworthy to enter this titan's refuge. Clouds seemingly haunted the skies above, swirling in the calm breeze of the warm night, the faintest shimmer of stars masked behind their cover.

To those who had never before stepped foot in this ancient and historic land, to those whose eyes had never witnessed the magic that legends speak of, this castle would appear naught but ruins, an ancient relic of a past long lost to the pages of history, abandoned in times of old and left to the mercy of time. But, any good-minded being who had stayed their fair share within this bastion of eerie calm would tell a much different tale. They would look up from their windows, unto the ancient and crumbling castle walls atop the mighty cliff of stone as black as charcoal, their eyes would meet with that same deathly red glare.

Eyes as red as blood, as hollowed and cold as if they held the devil's tainted touch. Hair as black as the dead of night, addressed in a long, animalistic mane of wild, unkempt hair, marred by the fangs that gleamed in the sorrowful moonlight upon nights like these. Cloaked in black and silver, adorned with markings of a warrior, two swords sheathed upon his waist. A face forever morphed int a scowl, pierced with gleaming iron, adorning a glare as deadly as a vicious dragon. _The Guardian. The Protector._

The dragon who guarded his hoard closely.

Wings of gleaming iron, a roar to be cascaded across a country, forever protecting his hoard. He would forever be there, be it the depths of night or the dreary and gray lights of morning, looking down on them, drowned in mystery and shadows. Power. Strength. Mystery. Cruel and hard determination. But, this was nay a dragon who guarded gold and precious gems, this was no dragon who fought off tempered and tested adventurers. His tale didn't reside in Fairy Tails and children's stories, no, instead, his tale resided with her.

The Queen.

The warrior's pride, the guardian's resolve, the protector's quest. The treasure sought out by those who deemed themselves 'adventurers', the source of knowledge for those who called themselves scholars. The source of power for those judged as mages. Nay, she belonged to no due cause, she held no one aspect, embodied not one form. The only title she held besides that of her own status was: The dragon's hoard...

The iron dragon...shrouded in shadows as dark as the Queen's, his place among the shadows of her throne, blood red eyes forever casting his mighty gaze upon the village far below them through the broken and shattered glass, his hand steady upon the hilt of his sword, an eternal iron guardian.

Deep within the winding maze of the Titan's refuge, hidden among the shattered glass and the crumbled and battle-worn stone, among the dry and crumbling pages, among the leather-bound books, sat her, the Queen. Atop of crumbling throne, her foot rested upon ancient and powerful books, adorned in the dress and wrappings suited only for one of such power, crafted with the finest silks and velvets, embodied with the finest jewelry from across the lands. The panther sat across her lap, he too adorned with jewelry and weapons, a noble and hidden protector among the darkened shadows of this fortress of iron. Deep, mysterious and powerful hazel eyes, framed with the equally unkempt and wild blue hair, shadowed by the darkness of her titan's refuge, a woman whose reach extended deep into the darkness, whose power was only spoken of in scared and hushed whispers among nobles of distant lands. Least they receive a visit from the Dragon.

Even among the quiet and calm streets of the village far below, their own Queen remained a shrouded and enveloped mystery, a face never seen, only shadowed whispers of a name within the depths of hushed back alleys. Forever hidden among the towering walls and crumbling ruins of her own mighty Titan's refuge, safeguarded by her mighty iron dragon, forever protected by his powerful gaze.

The queen of a landed shrouded in darkness and mystery, holding a deep and mysterious power, forbidden and ancient magics, powerful tools of war. All shrouded by the mystery of this land, cloaked in an eternal cover of darkness, spreading fear like an infection throughout those who deem themselves 'outsiders', who feel naught but dread and fear underneath the blood red glare of the iron dragon. Villagers of a Queen shrouded in secrecy and shadows, who dare nay question their leaders, but accept the safety of the blood red glare upon the high windows of the ancient castle atop the gargantuan cliffs.

Not even the eerie wails of the calm wind upon the broken windows stirred a noise among the seemingly dead castle, empty and bare walls and hallways moving through the expanse of rooms and plazas, until comes the light sound of breathing among the top floors, a door closed to world outside, but, nonetheless, a room that ebbed of power and eerie hostility, where naught but the breathing of three individuals broke the overwhelming spell of silence, but, those who have ever ventured near have felt the cold tingle of fear upon their spine, and a sense of dread looming as they near the large iron door, adorned with intricate and detailed carvings....

For this is the domain of the Iron Dragon and his Queen.


	2. Legends of Old

A Queen of My Own

_Dragons..._

Monstrous beasts from a time long before their own, torn in blood and violence. The bitter, dark kings and queens of the skies, tearing their once blue sky to a rotten, grotesque black.

Even the greatest heroes had perished in their abyssal wake, dawning a dark new era on a world which could have been so much more.

In the end, they were all doomed to fade into the darkness under the vast wings of death which soared far above their hollow, shattered souls.

She sat atop her throne, watching the abysmal town from afar, her soulless gaze peering down to the dim lights that showed the only signs of life. She sighed, her head resting on her fist as her mind tour away at the scraps of her heart.

She had once been a happy, bright and naive person, forever living with a smile on her face. She had a family, a family she would fight even the darkest monsters for, a family that had called itself Fairy Tail. Within that family, there had been older siblings and younger siblings. There was always somebody watching over you with a protective gaze, and always somebody to watch over.

She gritted her teeth, launching an ancient, dusty book across the room. Her fists were clenched until her knuckles turned white, a low, furious growl escape her throat as she held back years of sorrow, anger and lies.

What was Fairy Tail? She would ask herself. What was friendship, love, or rivalry? She would ask herself. Nothing, would be her answer. Nothing but distant, faded memories.

She could count the survivors on her hand.

_Levy Mcgarden, Gajeel Redfox, Pantherlily, Erza Scarlet and Gildarts Clive._

Names that swam around her head day and night, the last fragments of a world that she wanted to forget, she wanted to burn the memories, bury them deep where not even she could find them.

Quietly, she locked away the demons; she resigned herself to a life of misery and darkness once more.

Slowly, she stood from her throne, her bare feet touching the cold, lifeless stone floor, avoiding the ancient rubble which had been left strewn across the floor. She made her way to a shattered window which overlooked the small village far below, filled with the empty souls who had survived the wake of the dragons only by pure luck.

It was a village nestled against a cliff face, hidden deep within the snowy mountain ranges - a far cry from any previous civilization. But despite that, the dragon's reach extended even to here.

Deep within her fortress laid a vast, ancient library. Historic books from the times of the earliest Dragon Slayers and some even beyond that. Ancient secrets that had lain buried for hundreds of years, pages so withered they could turn to dust any moment.

It was deep within the ancient halls in which she had discovered magic used by humans to protect themselves against the threat of dragons - warnings from a history which had died so many generations ago.

She had mastered one of the spells she had discovered within the ancient books.

It allowed her to create a sphere around the village which cloaked it from the sight of dragons; it was their first and last line of defense.

Levy turned from the shattered window, a furious scowl hovering over her empty, dead eyes. Softly she retreated from the ruined throne room, her hollow steps carrying her through the dark halls of her fortress.

_Natsu, Lucy, Jet, Droy, Mira..._

The names swam around in her head relentlessly, tearing her mind apart as she carried herself into her only sanctuary.

_Laxus, Makarov, Happy, Elfman..._

More and more names, more and more images. Images of heroic last moments, or bitter tears that had once fallen from the gentle crest of her cheeks.

_Gray, Juvia, Wendy, Lisanna..._

She turned a corner, a small passageway opening up unto a vast library hidden deep within the fortress. The heart of her solace, the only silence which was not filled with guilt and shame.

Her eyes would scan the books; her hands would turn the pages.

Her motions were robotic and empty. They were slow but precise; it was as if it were a routine which she had practiced a million times over.

But, so long as she kept doing it, the memories would fade - she would be distracted from the world and pulled into another.

It was all she could do.

She knew not the time, it could have been hours, it could have been minutes. But a shuffling had distracted her from the world of the ancient dragon slayers.

Gajeel Redfox rounded the corner, his red eyes illuminated by her soft candle-light.

His eyes, too, were empty. He carried himself silently, but he had been the reason she could walk on, that she could protect her people.

Time after time, he had fought for her, protected her.

He had suffered for it, dragged himself through a wretched, torn hell and then back again.

Her eyes subconsciously gazed at his left arm, where the limb had been ripped off in conflict with a dragon and replaced with a metal version similar to Gildarts' own arm. A new wave of guilt came over her, but she suppressed it once more.

"Levy..." Gajeel spoke. Her mind was drawn back to the days of old, the days of Fairy Tail. The way he used to call her 'Shrimp', the days when she'd spend countless hours admiring how far Gajeel had come.

Now, all of that seemed like some distant, faded memory. Twisted images of a time that reached out to grab her by the throat. "We got the supplies." He addressed her, his voice cold and hard.

He had been through hell and back, all to ensure the survival of the few things he had left. For this, she could not thank him enough, for it was thanks to him that they had survived, it was thanks to him that she had discovered this fortress in the mountains. "Four members were lost; they stayed behind to distract the dragon..." Gajeel muttered, his red eyes locked with her own.

But he broke the contact, turning his gaze to the piles of books around her. His words seemed empty and lifeless, broken and shattered. Just like Lily, Gajeel had become a phantom. He would come and go, usually as silent as the grave.

Levy bit back the guilt that tried to consume her whole. Those people, who had already lost so much, who fought for what little they had left. Just like herself and Gajeel, just like everybody on this rotten planet.

She wondered if they had families, friends, children or parents. She would discover their names later tonight when Gajeel gave a more formal report, but the thoughts twisted her, broke her mentally.

How many had she seen, how many more would she see?

_Doranbolt, Bickslow, Evergreen, Freed._

More names, more names that would haunt her.

"Thank you." Levy replied, her voice breaking slightly.

A frown came to Gajeel's face, his red eyes finally turning back to her. She could see that there was something he wanted to say, words that wanted to desperately to escape, but he remained silent.

Eventually, she would be left to her books once more. She would return to drowning out the darkest thoughts, pulling herself from one fictional world to the next.

* * *

 

Nestled high within the mountains of a distant land laid a small plateau, overlooking a vast valley.

It was a sight he would have called beautiful one day, a sight he would have done anything to see.

The sky was painted in peaceful pinks and brilliant oranges, the distant sun setting over the far mountains.

For as far as the eye could see, the land stretched on in great green hills of a vast tundra. The distant remains of once great cities could be spotted.

"I'll always remember you..." A woman whispered before him, kneeling near the edge of the plateau, her sword embedded into the ground as she leant on its hilt.

Her scarlet hair blew in the wind, painted like a goddess.

She left a rose at her feet, as red as her hair.

She could cry no more tears, scream no more apologies. For what happened had happened, and this world was theirs and they had to make the best out of what was left.

At least, that's what he'd always told her.

"Come, Erza. We can't stay here for long." Gildarts mumbled, his eyes constantly scanning the horizon, the valley and the mountains for signs of movement. This was the territory of dragons, nobody survived long here.

For a moment, he feared his words had fallen on deaf ears, but the lady with hair like scarlet replied, her voice soft and weak. It was a rare moment, where a mighty warrior became a human once more.

"Right..." She whispered, standing tall despite herself. She pulled her sword free from the ground, returning it to its sheath. She looked to Gildarts, and he couldn't help but frown.

She had lost her right eye; a large scar worked its way across her once smiling happy face.

She walked past him, her long cloak blowing in the wind.

Gildarts spared a moment to look down at the gravestone she had knelt before, reading the roughly inscribed name.

_Jellal Fernandes._


	3. Fading Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day this stuff will be consistent.

* * *

* * *

 

It was a rare sight to see the Iron Dragon far from his queen, perhaps ever rarer to see him without a plethora of soldiers at his back. Yet, it was this very sight that greeted the tired gazes of the villagers upon a particularly snowy night. A looming figure with unmistakable bloody red eyes wandering through their streets adorned in a long black cloak.

Gajeel’s heavy steps would lead him past the glowing windows of houses and down the long since frozen steps until the peaceful village came to a sudden and harsh stop, presenting the Iron Dragon with a faint barrier of familiar shimmering magic. He found that his remaining hand lifted itself to the edge of the barrier, feeling the warmth resonate through his body. For a brief glimpse of time he was back in the guild, unashamedly watching a small blue haired girl read through a book he would struggle to comprehend. It had been a revelation that there was a strength other than that of magic, strategy and power.

Yet that warmth would disappear all to quick as the cold reached up the flesh of his arm and bring him back to this dark snowy night and his objective, the dark figures moving clumsily just beyond the shimmering magic barrier. His hand fell to the sheath of a blade on his hip in line with every slow breath he took, loosening his body.

Then he sprung forth like lightning through the barrier, bringing the blade of his sword through the jaw of a young drake, painting the snow a bloody red as he tore the blade up through its skull. He turned  on a second drake, slamming the fist of his mechanical hand against its neck and throwing his sword at the third and final drake. He transformed his now free arm into a long blade, pushing it through the chest of the beast once, twice and a third time. With a final burst of energy he stormed the third drake, retrieving his sword from its shoulder and bringing it down in a crude swipe across its chest.

Silence once again returned to the seemingly endless valleys and mountains, their peaks and falls home only to the sound of the blistering cold wind and the distant roars of dragons. Gajeel’s steps were heavy as he dragged the corpses through the barrier, the ever curious gazes of his villagers tainted with worry and doubt as their iron guardian carried out the solemn task. He paused once again at the barrier as he went to retrieve the third body, the furthest from the barrier. It was naught but steps away from the faint shimmering magic, yet the fear crawled up his spine like a spider.

He perished such thoughts, stepping forward through the barrier one last time. The skies were as vast as they were clear, providing what little comfort they could. He knelt next to the fallen drake, running his hand along the spinal horns that sprouted from the beast’s head, a long sigh falling from his lips.

“They’re getting too close.” He commented, the northern winds being his only companion as he dragged the final lumbering body back through the barrier. They had been left in a pile for burial the next morning, leaving the Iron Dragon with another crack in his morals. A part of him felt nothing but a burning, bloody hatred for the dragons and their offspring. However there was a pang of sadness that shot through his body with each kill, filled with the images of friends long since lost to the maw of the dragon

With heavy shoulders, the iron dragon returned to the side of his queen.

* * *

 

At first sight, Erza had barely recognized the ruins of the town that surrounded them. Even in destruction it had been a beautiful sight of gold and blue, overgrown with the most beautiful aspects of nature the knight had ever laid her eyes on. Yet in one fleeting moment her world had come crashing down upon her as she turned her gaze to the ruins of a large building.

Once great walls laid crumbled and destroyed, taken back into the fold of nature once more. The entrance was charred by dragon fire and the last remnants of a desperate struggle for survival. Below the grand entrance was the final crushing blow to the knight's heart, the crumbled sign left scattered on the floor that read ' _Fairy Tail_ '.

Her hands trembled as the knight grinded her teeth together, desperate to remain silent. She had dreamt of this town countless times, seen its beautiful streets filled with the same faces she'd come to recognize each and every day. Somehow, she'd imaged it'd all be here when she came back. She'd expected to see her guildmates waving her in, or a rowdy brawl between friends. Anything, anything except the desolation that laid before her. Silence replaced music, charred ruins replaced her home and not a soul remained.

Yet she found herself drawn further into the building, perhaps they were waiting inside, perhaps she'd only imagined it. Perhaps...

The hand of Lyon Vastia stopped her in that moment, gripping the knight's shoulder firmly but cautiously. One of the last remaining members of the group of thirteen they'd started with. He shook his head, his white hair shifting to reveal the scars that ran across the left side of his face and body. Burned, crushed or cut Lyon had remained, a man filled with a burning hatred but tortured by quiet solace.

"Don't." He whispered, the same pain forever marred into his gaze. "It only hurts more if you know what happened, cling onto that hope. Please..." He added, turning back to the silent Gildartz. The powerful mage was as lost as the knight was, his wounded gaze fallen on their once beautiful home. "We must continue north if we are to have any hope of bringing back the world that once was." Lyon demanded, taking lead of the group in Erza's stead as they passed through the ruins of Magnolia.

It wasn't until they approached the borders of Fiore, hidden under the rocky outcroppings that the Knight spoke once again. She asked a question that had plagued the minds of many.

"How do we know they're even there?" The Knight asked, images of the iron dragon-slayer flashing through her mind. "If they're even alive?" Erza added.

Lyon found his gaze pulled to the remaining members of their group. Himself, Erza, Gildartz and two member recruits of his former guild. All people he could trust, people who wouldn't escape the wrath of dragons through information.

"Before we escaped to the south of Crocus, I happened upon Sting Eucliffe. He was beyond saving but he told me that Gajeel and the others were to the far north, Sting was supposed to join them but he never made it far enough." Lyon explained, keeping his eyes peeled on the seemingly empty sky. An empty sky was always a bad sight. "For years I'd pondered over why Gajeel would choose the north. It is true that there is little of nothing there, but the landscape is as dangerous as the dragons themselves and offers little protection. It wasn't until recently that it occurred to me that Levy McGarden was most likely with him, who made regular visits to our guild to loan books that Fairy Tail didn't have. One of such books she often read was about a legendary fort constructed by some of the first dragon slayers, supposedly located in the frozen wastes to the north." Lyon explained, Erza taking back the lead as they passed through a barren field.

Lyon lifted his bag up, giving it a brief shake. "Gajeel is possibly the last of his kind, but his magic is the only way to kill a true dragon. However, if Levy is alive then we have an even greater chance of pushing back the beasts that took our world from us." Lyon smirked, following Erza up a worn out trail.

"I hope they're alive, but what of Levy? Her magic is no better than our own against the dragons." Gildartz asked, his brow lifted in curiosity. Himself and Erza had accepted Lyon's offer to search for Gajeel without hesitation, a sense of desperation had been growing among them with each passing death. They needed to see a friend, they needed a reminder that the old world still existed even if it was in the smallest fragments.

"It is not her magic I'm hoping for, but her ability to read ancient runes. If they truly did find the fort, I can't begin to imagine what kind of old magical tomes might of been left there. It's a long shot, but I have something she might be able to help us with." Lyon explained, quickly closing his mouth as a distant roar of a dragon pierced their ears. Turning back, they saw the taunting dark shadow above Magnolia.

The rest of their trip went in silence, making their way up through the torturing mountains in the vague direction Sting had indicated.

* * *

 

Even Erza had stopped counting the days as her plate boots searched for hard ground under the dunes of snow, wrapped tightly in a fur cloak. The cold was a relentless beast, sending even Lyon into a shivering silence. For what seemed a thousand miles in every direction was the rise and fall of great mountains, covered in snow and ice. Yet there was no fort, nothing but a cruel and unforgiving wasteland.

Exhaustion and desperation dragged on the group, grinding their search down to a halt for another night as the darkness began to set in. The endless dunes only gave way to a colossal cliff curved over a plateau far below, not an ideal place to spend the night but the only option offered to the group.

"Perfect p-place for a fort if it even ex-" Gildartz commented, his chattering teeth suddenly interrupted by Erza's drawn blade and the flash of steel. A flash of black and red pushed the knight back.

"Traitor!" Gajeel roared, raising his blade to strike as the knight stumbled and fell into the snow. His bloody red eyes burned with a fiendish hatred.

* * *

* * *

 

 


End file.
